


I'm alright, thanks

by HappinessEscape (passicnfruit)



Series: A Number of Incredibly Un-Awe-Inspiring Logs of Kozume Kenma [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2139522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passicnfruit/pseuds/HappinessEscape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma is always okay, except for when he isn’t.<br/>Today, Kenma was not okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm alright, thanks

**Author's Note:**

> It’s kind of grey but that doesn’t really matter to me. Entertainment isn’t really the main point of this, or something. I haven’t really written for a couple years so I wanted some practice. I’ve also recently read that keeping a journal is good for your health, so hey.  
> Trigger warning for more-or-less detailed self harm.

 

Kenma is always okay, except for when he isn’t.

Today, Kenma was not okay.

The day started fine. Not bad, at least. Breakfast was the same as usual, except for the fact that his house was out of apple-grape juice (actually, there was still some left, but Kuroo had been over the other night and the juice was left out and probably forming a new species of bacteria by now), and the classes weren’t all that unbearable, except for his eraser ran out halfway through lunch, when he was completing an essay outline with Yaku as his editor (who, as the mother-cat-type, let no minor mistake in punctuation or citation slip through, making a few small notes and revisions himself). Practice wasn’t all different from any other day, either (well, it was a lot quieter than usual, since Inuoka had to go home early to take care of his new terrier, but that was beside the point).

Actually, Kenma’s not entirely sure where it went wrong.

Not any individual event struck Kenma as particularly triggering. The day was actually rather boring, if Kenma had to put a word to it. He didn’t meet anyone new; he didn’t achieve any romantic or friendly developments in any of his Harvest Moon relationships; he didn’t hear any interesting gossip about anyone important. Nothing interesting at all happened. Maybe that was it.

Kenma was shirtless, his pale, almost sickly, white skin exposed to the late summer heat; he was lying down on his raised bed’s wrinkled sheets with his half-open, glazed-over eyes fixed on the sun-shaped decal above his head. There was a dull ache in his shoulders and thighs from practice, but nothing could really compare to the soft burn of the shallow wounds on his stomach and hips. When he lied on his back, his belly would form a valley and his ribs and hips would protrude more than usual. He would fit his fingers under his ribs and pull them upward, just for no reason. He pondered on why he did it, if only for a moment. Perhaps it felt nice. He ran his fingertips over the last week's scabs (gross) and the weeks before last's scars (pretty). His hips resembled the backside of a game control. He chuckled at the thought.

With every swipe of his open scissor blade, a small gasp escaped from his lips. He’d hold his breath for a moment, squeeze his eyes shut, exhale, open one eye at a time, and resume.

One, two, three, four… The cuts were shallow, but when they overlapped, they pulled at each other, and the little red beads grew in size until they pooled at the deepest part of his stomach. His breathing deepened, sweat formed on his neck, he felt like vomiting right then and there. He knew it’d stink up the room though, not to mention stain his bed, so he swallowed whatever did come up and coughed. His left hand scratched at his tummy, spreading open the  carvings, glossing the sticky fluid over his skin, getting some under his nails. Kenma was smart, though, and didn’t let any touch his bedsheets. He’d torn open an alcohol pad package, and swiped away the excess. That probably hurt more than the cuts themselves. It was a sharp, stinging pain, like a bunch of tiny, prickly little creatures were digging their way into his skin. The pads forced more blood to flow out. How annoying. He was past the point of tears by now. How long had he been doing this? The furthest time he could remember was his first week of high school. Why he began, he couldn’t recall. Why he couldn’t stop, he had no reason.

 

 

_Ba-ding!_

Eyes closed, Kenma flopped his hand next to his head in search for his phone. He smelled like sweat and his clothes stuck to his body. Where is it? Kenma aggressively rubbed the sleep from his eyes, irritated that someone was interrupting his much-needed sleep. He found his phone just an inch further from where his fingers were searching. A message from Kuroo.

_How are you?_

That’s it? Kenma sighed, but he wasn’t angry. Kuroo did these checkups every so often, and to be completely honest, Kenma was just a little bit thankful. Had it been anyone else, he’d have ignored the source and silenced his phone. Kuroo was the only one who could send him just about anything and not irritate him. There was something special between them which Kenma couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Kenma unlocked his phone and lowered the brightness while he waited a moment for his messenger application to open. He probably sat up too quickly, because he slammed himself back down onto the matress after the soreness in his stomach hit him like a bullet train. While attempting to soothe the pain via curling up into a ball, he tapped out a quick reply.

_Not okay.... something’s wrong_

Kenma contemplated what Kuroo would do if he sent that. Kuroo would be concerned, upset even, and Kenma knew it; he knew Kuroo wouldn’t just brush it off as if it were a joke, or ignore him like anyone else would, or, worse yet, feign worry (because Kenma knew that his would be genuine), but he decided on rephrasing his reply anyway. It’d be easiest for the both of them.

He held the delete button until his message was erased, and started a new message.

_I’m alright, thanks_

He hit enter.

_You?_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I might write a Kuroo sidefic to this.  
> I also might not.  
> I wonder if this is really as bland as I think it is. I hope it makes sense.


End file.
